


caught gold-handed

by JustRosey



Series: Roisa Fic Week 2k18 [5]
Category: Jane the Virgin (TV)
Genre: F/F, Finally, Marriage, PS the smut is only a filler actually, Painting, Roisa Fic Week 2k18, caught red-handed, omg, roisaficweek2k18, some smut, this is two days in one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 09:55:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15289005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustRosey/pseuds/JustRosey
Summary: Topic(s) #5 and #6Rose is caught red-handed not only once, but three times in this.Oh, and they are married... (Yes, this is me trying to cover up the fact, I had nothing prepared for today's marriage topic...)Couldn't help my Austrian self and chose an Austrian painter...lol Happy Birthday, Gustav Klimt!This fic is weird and was mostly written with a pounding headache - Low expectations please...





	caught gold-handed

Luisa carefully opens the door to Rose’s studio.  
Her wife had been in here all day; all week, who was she kidding, and apart from breakfast, aka one cup of black coffee and a bite of Luisa’s toast, she hadn’t eaten anything at all since this morning.

Stepping into the room, Luisa right away spots a pack of half eaten powdered donuts and rolls her eyes.  
She always wondered, how Rose had kept herself in shape all those years before she had met her (or her father…).  
Yes, she did do sports at least once a week, but if Luisa wouldn’t cook and stuff fruit and vegetables into her, Rose’s diet would mainly consist of coffee and, surprise, donuts.

She tries to make noise, approaching the redhead, who’s still got her headphones in, and is probably blasting her brains out while painting.  
Not a chance, Rose doesn’t hear her.  
Luisa waits until the paintbrush leaves the canvas, so she won’t scare Rose and cause her to mess with her newest piece of work.  
“Hey, babe,” she starts and Rose jumps at first, but relaxes immediately, when Luisa starts massaging her neck. “Aren’t you hungry at all?”  
Rose only now takes her headphones out.  
“What?” she smiles sheepishly, and turns around in Luisa’s arms.  
“I asked, if you are feeling hungry, or if the donuts, that you are living on again lately, filled your tummy already?”  
Rose glares at the donuts lying on her desk accusingly, as if it’d be their fault.  
“I wanted to put them away-”  
“-before I see them?” Luisa grins and pinches Rose’s sides.

“What are you painting actually?” she goes on, taking in the scene on the canvas before her. The style of it, with all the gold paint and the unusual patterns… it seemed kind of familiar, and why was Rose blushing? She wasn’t shy about her art usually.

“Uhm, I wanted to try and see if I could recreate the style of a particular artist… “  
She puts her mixing palette away and walks over to the small sink to clean her brushes.  
“You said something about dinner? I’m really hungry, despite the donuts.”  
“Who are you trying to copy?” Luisa asks, the painting having sparked her interest; it was really quite impressive.  
It showed a dark haired woman, making eccentric gestures with her hands, and a golden snake winding around one of her arms. Her dress also had big patches of gold in it, and the background consisted of weird shapes with even weirder patterns and even more gold.  
“It does remind me of… “ Luisa ponders, still haven’t gotten an answer from Rose.  
“Come on, Ro! Help me, I don’t know enough about art!”

Rose turns the water off, sighing, when she checks herself in the mirror on the wall beside the sink; she had a generous amount of gold paint on her cheek.  
“You could’ve told me my cheek is all golden,” she complains and tries to wipe it off with a clean cloth, making her cheek go red with all the rubbing, only getting a small amount of the paint off. She only now sees, the back of her left hand is covered in paint as well; she must’ve wiped it onto her cheek with that hand.

“You look cute with a golden cheek… Is it a european artist?” Luisa goes on, clearly not willing to give up and leave it. “I remember seeing paintings with lots of gold and patterns like this on one of our travels… Was it in the Louvre? Or in Amsterdam… don’t ask me the name of that museum… It’s not Van Gogh’s style, is it?”  
“No, it’s not!” Rose groans at Luisa’s incapability of distinguishing the great european masters, no matter how many museums they visited, or how much she talked about it. “Does this look like Post-Impressionism to you? Or impasto painting?”

Luisa gives her a look, telling her to just get over it, because she really should know better by now.  
“Vienna, last April, in that pretty castle, that was built by this gay prince, where you said you wanted nothing more than to make love to me on that grand, white marble staircase watched by all the statues,” Rose sighs, knowing her love will certainly remember this.

“Ooooh, yes, I remember!” Luisa giggles, but has no idea whose paintings they had seen in the castle back then; her staircase fantasies had still been in her head, when she had watched Rose in her natural habitat, going really quiet and taking ages looking at all the paintings.

“Klimt. I’m trying myself at his style of painting. Do you remember ‘The Kiss’? You said, you didn’t like it, because the man in the painting looks like he’s forcing the woman to kiss him,” Rose helps her, and suddenly Luisa does remember and she’s not amused.  
“Why would you try to recreate the style of an artists who is most famous for that painting?” she pouts, and turns back to the painting in front of her; at least Rose’s motive wasn’t looking abusive (or necessarily hetero) in any way.  
“Because, apart from slightly weird body positioning, I adore his art, and I really wanted to get rid of all that gold paint,” she explains, motioning to a big can of shimmering, silky, bright gold paint.  
“Didn’t you order it only last week?” Luisa asks confused, but Rose grabs her hand, dragging her towards the door.  
“Nope. That was silver paint. Now, dinner!”

-

“What about dinner now?”  
Rose slumps down in one of the chairs and looks at Luisa expectantly. “I’m starving!”  
“Get up and help me then,” Luisa tells her over the noise of pans and pots being taken out of the cupboard. After finally having retrieved the biggest pot, she fills it with water.

Rose grumbles, muttering something like, “I thought you had it ready… Art is work too, and I did a lot of it today…”, but she approaches Luisa, who is just throwing some spaghetti into boiling water anyways.  
“Pasta? Again?” Rose sighs and Luisa turns around, kicking her in the shin.  
“The artist can make herself useful and get the salad from the fridge. You know, I hate cooking when I have to do it all alone, so yes pasta again it is for today!”  
“Now I get kicked in addition! I already have to live of cheap vending machine foods most of the time, and as if that wasn’t enough yet, my wife beats me,” Rose whines and drags herself over to the fridge grabbing the salad, a cucumber, and tomatoes. “How should one be creative in this environment?”  
“Shut up, will you?” Luisa grins at the redhead’s suffering facial expression and slides towards Rose on the slippery wooden floor, to where she is laden with vegetables, pressing a quick kiss into her still gold speckled cheek, making her blush and smile.

Rose busies herself cutting up the cucumber and starts eating some of the slices right away, until Luisa catches her.  
“Hey! Stop eating now, and hurry up! I’ve got the pasta ready in a minute!”  
The redhead acts rather unimpressed and pops another piece of cucumber into her mouth.  
“Cucumbers are 90 percent water. I’m actually drinking and not eating.”  
Luisa doesn’t even look at her; she is used to Rose always wanting to have the last word, for personal, ego-pushing purposes. And during those last years, Luisa had discovered, she actually needed it, because she was about half as confident as she pretended to be. It didn’t take much to make her blush or lose faith in something (Luisa had once said one of her paintings looked funny; it had disappeared without ever being finished.  
“If you keep this up, you’re not having any dessert today,” Luisa warns her with a grin, and fills two plates with pasta. “Are you ready, know-it-all?”

Luisa swats Rose’s fork away with her own, defending her unfinished plate.  
“I’m still hungry, and you said I won’t get any dessert,” Rose protests, trying to get some pasta on her fork again, but Luisa holds hers out for her, and Rose gladly opens her mouth.  
“Pasta wasn’t such a bad idea after all, hmm?”  
Rose shakes her head while chewing on the spaghetti.

After both of them have finished their plates, Rose gets up in order to clean the table, but Luisa stops her by pushing her back into her seat and sitting down in her lap.  
“Just because you don’t get any dessert, doesn’t mean i don’t want any either.”  
One hand cups Rose’s cheek, the other fists into her loose, color-speckled shirt, and she kisses her senseless, until Rose manages to get herself back together, get up with Luisa, who slings her legs around her hip, and carry her to the couch in the living room.  
“You can’t just stay in your studio, painting all day… see how much I missed you?” Luisa purrs, when Rose lies down on the couch with her on top, blue eyes already noticeably darker than usual.  
“If it means you are so damn turned on right after dinner, you won’t see me downstairs during the day all week,” Rose gives back in a whisper, trying to open Luisa’s blouse.  
The button comes off and Rose grumbles something intelligible, before Luisa takes it from her hand, putting it away on the couch table.  
“Didn’t we agree on you never again wearing that blouse when you plan to have sex with me?” Rose goes on, now busy opening her belt and then Luisa’s shorts. “Will you make me sew it on again? I need to know now, because if yes, I don’t think I can go through with this here… Sewing is too frustrating.”  
Luisa can’t help but laugh at Rose, remembering the last time she had ruined that very blouse, ripping not one, but, in one smooth movement, all the buttons off on purpose. Luisa had made her try to sew them back on again the next day, but had let her get away, after inspecting the quality of the work…  
Rose was exceptionally bad at sewing and had poked more holes into her fingers than into the fabric of the blouse, when Luisa found her cursing that “obnoxious piece of silken horror”.  
She wasn’t scared of needles when she held them herself, or at least she said so, but Luisa kind of doubted it, given how weirdly her otherwise fearless wife held them.  
She liked the blouse enough to fix it herself, but had actually agreed to not wear it, when there was a chance of Rose wanting to undress her. She hadn’t thought anything would happen until bedtime today so, she shall be forgiven.

“I’ll never let you near a needle or that blouse again,” Luisa chuckles and pushes Rose’s originally white, but now colorful painting shirt over her head, finding her breasts exposed.  
“Mmm, this is a nice surprise,” Luisa moans, right away leaning down to place hot kisses on the sensitive, pale flesh.  
“Can’t bother wearing a bra while painting… I’d only get mad at the straps coming off my shoulders all the time,” Rose explains, her voice hoarse and her hands on Luisa’s (finally freed) ass.

Rose had flipped them over on the couch, once Luisa had already been too high on those skilled fingers inside her, and those pink lips on her neck, to protest the change of position.  
Rose really had to put up a fight to be top most of the time.  
Luisa feels her blood starting to pool low in her stomach, Rose sucking at her pulse point, probably producing an enormous hickey, and her legs starting to tremble under the pressure.  
“Ro… “ she moans, not quite there yet, but on the brink of a mind shattering orgasm. “Please…”  
Rose, much to Luisa’s dismay, stops her movements, propping herself up on one arm and looking at Luisa with that softest of smiles, one didn’t manage to caress out of her very often.  
“This is when you look the most beautiful, you know,” she starts gently and leans down to kiss a slightly distracted Luisa; distracted by the feeling of a ticking bomb between her legs. “I love you, and now, come for me.”  
Her fingers are exactly where Luisa needs them again, and it takes not much more than a second to send her into a screaming orgasm.

Rose lies down beside her and slings an arm around her protectively/possessively; let’s be honest, those two adjectives are one and the same in Rose’s head.  
She lets her wife recover, watching her chest rise and fall in a continuously slower pace.  
“I love you too,” Luisa whispers after finally having found her voice again and curls into Rose’s soft, naked body.

That is, until Luisa has recovered enough to return the favour.  
She pushes herself up on both hands, leaving a trail of kisses on Rose’s torso, before running her tongue over her wife’s wet sex, making her gasp in surprise.  
“You taste better than powdered donuts,” Luisa grins predatory, knowing Rose, in this situation, was also about as defenseless as pastry.  
“Luisa… fuck,” she moans, when Luisa sucks at her clit. She is embarrassingly close already, and she knows that her wife knows that too; but Rose wasn't actually embarrassed about this anymore these days.  
“Oh… Lu, please!”  
A begging Rose is enough to fuel Luisa’s eagerness, and she speeds up the thrust of her fingers inside her, pushing her closer and closer to the edge.  
“And now imagine we are on that staircase, watched by white, gorgeous marble statues,” Luisa whispers with a grin, before finishing Rose with one last stroke of her tongue, making her scream an elongated “Lu”.  
Luisa sucks her fingers clean, wipes her mouth, and crawls back on top of her heaving wife, kisses her flushed, still gold speckled cheek, and takes her limp, right hand into hers, squeezing it.  
She holds Rose’s hand for awhile, before realizing, their wedding band is missing from it.  
The redhead notices her staring, having opened her eyes again, having overcome the wonderful flush of pale fire cursing through her veins.  
“I took it off in my studio,” she fills her in, her voice husky from the screaming, and her mouth dry because of it. “I forgot to put it back on.”  
Luisa gently kisses her delicate ring finger, lacing their fingers together, and pressing the back of Rose’s hand against her own cheek, before cuddling into her again, not wanting to end their warm, sticky skin-to-skin contact just yet.

Half an hour later, Rose shakes her awake and mocks her for having fallen asleep using her boob as some sort of pillow apparently.  
She is dragged upstairs by Rose only a minute later, and pushed under the warm spray of the shower.  
Luisa closes her eyes and hums into the warm water running down her body.  
Rose on the other hand, grumbles behind her, rubbing a washcloth against her cheek again, trying to get rid of the gold paint once and for all.  
“Babe?” Luisa laughs and turns around to her wife furiously attacking her cheek with that cloth. “Stop! It’ll only go red and irritated if you keep this up!”

Rose went to bed with a few additional, golden freckles on one of her cheeks, and Luisa loved it honestly a bit too much.

-

They kept this up for a long time; Rose painting in her studio most of the day, not allowing Luisa in there, so she busied herself decorating their house even more, or reading, only to go down on her wife every evening, after she had “been to work” all day.

She enjoys this game, until that night, they sit in front of their TV, zapping through the programmes, and Christie’s Auctions and Private Sales is on, which Rose usually loved.  
“- newly discovered painting by Austrian painter Gustav Klimt-”  
Usually.  
She reaches for the remote, but it is too late.  
Luisa has seen too much.

“Rose.”  
Silence and the intro of The Big Bang Theory follow.  
“Ro-ose.!”  
Rose looks at Luisa with a guilty smile, knowing her situation is hopeless.  
“I always wanted to be a con-artist… and until now, I never had the time or enough experience to pull it off,” she mumbles, pulling her best ‘I’m sorry - I love you’ face.

“You have been so good for years now, babe?! Is crime just that essential to you?” Luisa bursts, having jumped off the couch, towering in front of Rose.  
“Art isn’t a crime,” Rose protests, realizing that’s totally not the point here right after saying it out loud.  
“Selling a painting that is just not an original for-” Luisa looks back to the screen, where a bidder names an even higher sum than the one before him and winning the bid, “- fucking 97 Million Dollars, is a crime, Rose! What were you thinking?!”  
Rose smiles sheepishly, looking as harmless and innocent as a lamb.  
“Is it still as bad, if I told you, I know who bought it, and he very much deserves spending a fortune on a fake?”  
Luisa looks at her, not knowing what to do with her wife of three years, who seemed to have gone crazy for crime again.  
“Half of the money goes to various people I still owe for keeping my past life from catching up to our married life, and me out of trouble, and the rest we could donate… maybe?” Rose suggests, the ‘maybe’ coming out in a squeaky tone; she’s not used to Luisa staring her down like that.

“You sleep on the couch, until I decide I can look at you again.”  
Luisa stomps off towards the stairs.  
“Okay baby! I love you! I have lots of leftover gold paint - I suppose, I could make you a nice, golden, klimt-ish portrait -” The door of their bedroom door slams close, and Rose sighs, before reaching for the blanket, discovering some golden speckles of that damned paint still shimmering on the back of her hand.

**Author's Note:**

> I dunno... you tell me!


End file.
